


Two Steps Back

by chickabee



Series: How To Train Your Prince [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, and yet so “behind” on his firebending, how can zuko be so good at swords, the author cracks down on the atla timeline, you CANNOT master swordsmanship in ONE single day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickabee/pseuds/chickabee
Summary: In which Piandaoisn’tZuko’s sword instructor, but neither is the oc who was supposed to teach him because Yeong Jin is not as ready to adopt traumatized children as Anzu is.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar) & Original Character(s), Zuko (Avatar) & Original Female Character(s), Zuko (Avatar) & Original Male Character(s)
Series: How To Train Your Prince [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587808
Comments: 6
Kudos: 104





	Two Steps Back

**Author's Note:**

> Zuko is still in the early years of his banishment, so he’s still the haughty little prince that calls people “peasant” to their face as a way to vent. Yeong Jin is ~~was~~ high enough on the social ladder to be extremely done with this spoiled brat and thinks someone needs to knock him down a peg.

Yeong Jin is the first born son of Lord Ilsu and Minister Changxi. He’s high enough on the political ladder that he would’ve inherited both his father’s manor and his mother’s position in Court, lofty enough that he could’ve married into the royal family if both parties felt they could gain something from the union. He should’ve been right on the edge of Zuko’s political circle of peers, so Zuko feels he owes the man a modicum of respect.

Yeong Jin is not a fire bender. He will never inherit anything unless the eldest fire bender in the family feels gracious enough to gift him a pension and a small section of the family property. The royal family would never see any use for a consort that cannot strengthen a future Fire Lord’s bending. He’s just outside the circle of peers Zuko would be beginning to rub elbows with back home.

Yeong Jin is little more than a lucky peasant with a good pedigree who wouldn’t be _stopped_ from marrying and having children, but would be _strongly discouraged_ from doing so.

But Yeong Jin is also his elder by a little more than ten years. And Zuko may be a prince but he’s a _banished_ prince. But Yeong Jin works for Zuko on a rinky-dink old war ship. But he’s going to teach Zuko... _something_ so he should probably treat him as a master?

Zuko’s thoughts are running in circles on how to address him because Uncle is Uncle and their relationship has been a balance of genuine affection and general teenaged disrespect. Guardsman Anzu is a soldier from the Colonies with no political ties whatsoever who instructs him from time to time, but ultimately follows his orders. His Uncle’s orders. They’re Zuko’s orders, but with an Uncle-esque interpretation.

Yeong Jin is studying him from across the room. He looks extremely disinterested and aggravated to be there. From how he explained things earlier, Zuko isn’t sure if Yeong Jin _offered_ or is being _forced_ to teach him, but either way Zuko would much rather not have to navigate whatever nasty political mess being rude will get him into back home.

Because he is going home someday.

He is.

He has to.

So Zuko tries to politely (politely!) dismiss him.

“Absolutely not,” Yeong Jin states.

And Zuko swings right back around to horribly-traumatized-hormone-machine. As he rants and argues that _no_ he doesn’t need instruction in any other area, Uncle is taking care of that _just fine_ now that they’ve figured out how to get him to meditate, Yeong Jin pulls out a short, thin _stick_ with a delicate floral design. The polished wood gleams in the lamplight, and so does the tiny blade when he unsheathes it. Calling it a dagger would be generous, but it seems too artful? ceremonial? to simply call it a knife.

Zuko trails off when Yeong Jin begins twirling the blade between his fingers, equal parts entranced by the deftness of the act and terrified Yeong Jin is going to hurt himself.

“Don’t flinch,” is all Yeong Jin says before he flicks his wrist and the knife flashes toward Zuko’s face, toward the _left side_ of his face and of course he flinches _how could he not_ and there’s a solid _shwip-thunk_ as the blade whizzes past and hits the metal wall right above his ear.

The prince in him wants to leap to his feet, demand Yeong Jin’s head, that was _terrifying_ how _dare he_ come so close to lodging a _fucking knife in his head_.

The thirteen-year-old in him wants to _beg Yeong Jin to show him how to do that that was so fucking cool **he wants to know how to do that**_.

He must be able to read it on Zuko’s face because he says, “I’m not teaching you how to do that,” and Zuko absolutely _does not pout_ , “I don’t even think I could. It’s a skill I’ve never quite been able to explain. However, I _can_ teach you how to use a sword. How to be lighter on your feet than your average fire bender.” 

As he speaks, his hands wave through the air, pulling Zuko’s attention through the conversation. It’s not like Guardsman Anzu’s sharp, excitable gestures, where her hands punctuate her sentences like her voice can’t convey what she wants. This is mesmerizing and hypnotic, and incredibly practiced, and Zuko only realizes this because it’s how he imagines the lead male in _Love Amonst the Dragons_ is supposed to be. Zuko realizes this, and is drawn into the story his words and movements are telling all the same.

* * *

Yeong Jin is certainly acting, to an extent.

He _could_ teach the prince that little knife trick, he _could_ explain it in a way he’d understand. _Could_ show him how to balance it and rotate it, how to bend his fingers in so they don’t cut across the blade. _Could_ , at the very least, show him how to aim and throw a small weapon.

Could.

Won’t.

A man needs his mystique.

The prince is only half listening to him anyway, too distracted by the way his hands move. It’s not the uncontrollable impulse he’s convinced people it is. Not like Anzu, where words don’t have the energy to encompass all that she’s feeling, so her body seems to subconsciously make up for it.

Yeong Jin moves this way on purpose.

Either people focus too hard on his mouth and the words slipping out, or they focus too hard on his hands.

He can proudly proclaim that he’s beaten their illustrious retired Dragon at Pai Sho because of this skill. But he doesn’t because he feels like General Iroh wasn’t as invested in the game as he should’ve been - it looked like the man was just putting pieces down in a _pattern_ for spirits’ sake.

Eventually, he gets the prince to agree to train with him (and the prince looks wonderfully shocked when Yeong Jin stands up with a wave of his fingers and a “See you tomorrow, Highness~” slipping from his lips just as quickly as he slips out the door).

He wanders his way toward Anzu’s quarters.

She doesn’t answer the door.

He moans and cajoles and begs until one of her roommates rips the door open to shoo him away.

It’s become a game, to see how _bad_ his wooing gets.

* * *

From her place by the railing, Anzu isn’t quite sure what to make of the spectacle on the deck.

There’s Yeong Jin, exasperated and already losing his patience, the flat of his blade tapping against his thigh. He’s irritated and they haven’t even begun. He’s already worked up a sweat showing off whatever sword form he’s trying to teach the prince.

He’s also shirtless, which is just. Completely unnecessary.

Prince Zuko is also irritated, and he lost his patience before they even started. She’s no swordsman, but even she can tell he’s gripping the hilt too tightly and his movements are too stiff.

He’s also unnecessarily shirtless, but she chalks that up to Yeong Jin taking his shirt off first for the _drama of it all_ and His Highness following after because he takes everything far too seriously and probably assumed being half naked was required.

The sword training is going. Horribly. Not least of which because the two boys (one boy, one man, but they’re _both_ acting like _children, honestly_ ) get on like fire and oil. Prince Zuko is trying to use his sword like he would his fire, and Yeong Jin doesn’t understand how to translate the instinctive need to bend into swordplay. It has been, overall, an absolute disaster and _this is why Anzu should keep all her ideas to herself she does not have good ideas ever_.

Prince Zuko tosses his sword to the ground. It clangs and clatters in about as much irritation as the prince, and he stomps off below deck. There is, of course, general yelling and shouting, but the crew has come to suspect if His Highness _isn’t_ loud he might hurt something. On the inside.

Yeong Jin saunters up to Anzu, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Did you set him off on purpose? To get out of this?”

He scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

She doesn’t quite believe him - let’s him read it on her face - and he scowls, “I can only teach someone who wants to be _taught_.”

He may have a point. As eager as the prince is to move on in his training, it doesn’t strike Anzu as an eagerness to learn. More like an eagerness to simply _do_. _Doing_ things keeps his body in motion, and his mind off his banishment, she assumes. But only so long as he has to think about what he’s doing. So once a kata becomes _too_ familiar, muscle memory takes over. Great for meditation.

Horrible for the lurking thoughts of a traumatized teenager.

“He thinks swordplay is beneath him,” Yeong Jin continues, “even if he doesn’t say it. Most benders do.” He moves to sling an arm around her shoulders. She slips away before he touches her. He’s sweaty and smelly and she _just took a fucking shower, thank you very much_. It is _too early_ to already need another one. He pouts and leans against the rail. “Bending is the only martial art one needs,” he says in a measured tone. It sounds like he’s quoting someone else.

Anzu props her chin on her fists, her elbows on the railing. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Her legs wiggle and wobble without her making the conscious decision to do so.

“Do you think-“ she hesitates. This could be another great idea or another terrible one- “do you think you could beat me?”

“I beg your fucking pardon?”

She tilts her head to look at Yeong Jin out of the corner of her eye, “Do you think you could beat me? Like in a fight?” She waves a hand to encompass...them, “My fire bending against your swordplay.”

He gapes at her for a moment. Looks away. “Possibly? I think, if given sufficient motive, I could best a fire bender.”

“Is proving a point to His Highness sufficient motive?”

He clicks his tongue, “No.”

Her hands go flying, “And why not?”

“Is proving to a spoiled princeling that my non-bending martial art is as impressive as fire bending a good enough motivation for me to take you seriously as an opponent? Absolutely not.”

There is a sound similar to that of a squawking messenger hawk that does _not_ come from Anzu, “I’m not a serious opponent?!”

“That is not what I said!” he snaps.

“Yes! Yes the fuck it is!”

“I am not going to ever fight you seriously!” he rounds on her, “Not in the way you’re implying! I believe I could easily match you in a spar, but in a serious fight? You draw on all your rage, your anger, all that fury you benders are taught to hone into a weapon before you even know if you _can_. I had to find my own instructors, and I didn’t find them until I was well into my adolescence. If we met on the battlefield, if we were _enemies_ , I have no doubt I would, at the very least, take you down with me. But to bring you down? _You_? I do not have the level of animosity toward you that would take.

“Decent swordsmanship isn’t something you can learn in a single day! It takes work, and dedication, and _time_ , and your little _prince_ doesn’t even want to learn it at all!” With every sentence he spits out he takes a step forward, until he’s in her face because she refuses to yield a single inch to his tirade.

“So _no_ ,“ he hisses, “you’ll need better _motivation_ than that.” He stomps off below deck, same as the prince. Some of the crew who definitely heard at least part of that argument stay well out of his way.

Anzu...isn’t entirely sure what point he was trying to make. She feels kind of like she was just complimented - in a very roundabout, backhanded way - and also like he was just saying words. Is he angry at Prince Zuko? At her? At his fucking life in general because he’s been shafted by his family for being a non-bender?

It had been a simple question. And his answer had been vaguely convoluted. She sighs and drums her fingers against the rail.

Yes, he thought they could match each other in a spar.

No, he didn’t think he could _beat_ her in a spar.

The only way he thought he could is if they were _fighting_ and not _sparring_ and there was a significance to that emphasis.

But he’d said he wouldn’t fight her? Not couldn’t - wouldn’t.

She groans and squats behind the rail, glaring out at the fuzzy line where the sea met the horizon.

This is why she liked Prince Zuko, despite all his teenaged prickliness - at least when _he_ yelled, he yelled exactly what he was thinking.

She clicks her tongue.

Maybe Yeong Jin should be taking lessons from _him_.

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is probably going to get a little wobbly after this. I never meant for it to be cohesive anyway, that’s why I’ve been uploading them as a series of oneshots instead of chapters in a single story.
> 
> I have a plan for how Zuko learns to wield his dual dao, don’t worry! I just don’t see it happening immediately. Or with Yeong Jin, even tho he was _supposed to_.
> 
> Some of the tenses might be a little mixed up, I wrote this over the course of a couple days. I tried to catch as many as I could before I got too impatient to wait and upload it.


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